His Princess
Page 3
3
Alena
Chapter 3 *Alena*
“You look like a hooker. One of those American ones.” I turn to look in the mirror and burst out laughing because I know she’s talking about her favorite movie, Pretty Woman. I’m not shocked—my make-up looks just like Vivian Ward’s.
Tabby beams from behind me. We are in her room, getting ready. I don’t own any make-up, so I’m depending on her. When I do wear it, Tabby has to put it on me because I suck at it. In fact, I suck so bad at it that she confiscated the make-up I once had. She told me she did it for my own good.
“As long as I don’t have to dress like a hooker, it’s perfect,” I tell her, making her laugh.
“I say keep it simple on the outfit.” Tabby walks over to her bed, where she’s laid a few things out.
“This.” She picks up a dark green dress. It has short sleeves and molds tight at the bust. It flares at the waist, stopping a few inches above my knees.
“I can’t wear that. I’ll have to wear heels.” That’s the reason that dress has been in my closet—unworn—forever.
“Yep. I’ve seen you in heels. You’re a walking accident waiting to happen. So heels it is.” She picks up a pair of black heels and holds them next to the dress.
I get up from my chair, take them from her, and start to get dressed, knowing we have to be downstairs soon. She starts doing the same and finds something to wear.
When I turn around I see her standing there in a tight red dress that molds to her curves, making her golden skin look like it’s glowing. Red has always been Tabby’s color—her dark hair and red seem to go together. We could never share closets. Tabby has hourglass curves whereas I can barely fill anything out. I’m just built small. My giant husband is going to break me.
“Wait, are you trying to get his attention so he’ll marry you? I thought we were scaring him off.” I feel a little panicked and I don’t know why, but the idea of my sister ending up with him is one I don’t like.
“Whatever you want.” She looks at me like she’s confused. Her outfit is what she would normally wear. Tabby always dresses up and looks nice.
“Girls.” I hear my mom calling us right before the door opens. “Let’s go.” She gives us a glance before she turns and heads out of the room, a glass full of wine in hand, like always.
I slip the shoes on and almost fall over but catch myself before it happens. It makes Tabby giggle, and I snort. Maybe we don’t have to try to be weird.
“Come on.” Tabby locks her arm with mine and we make our way towards the great room. I can’t help but wonder if they are already here.
“I don’t know if I can do this,” I whisper. “I’m so shy I don’t know if I can make a fool of myself.”
“I’ll be right here. We’ve got this.” I look up at her and nod. When we turn the corner, I freeze, and everyone turns to look at us. I drop my eyes to the floor, feeling warmth spread on my face.
I hear Tabby whisper, “Holy fuck,” next to me, so low only I can hear it. I look over at her and follow her line of sight. She’s staring at a man standing with his arms folded over his chest. He has dark hair and deep green eyes. He’s got a smirk on his face that shows off a dimple. And his eyes are on Tabby, which is normal. Most men’s eyes go straight to her.
Roman steps in front of the man, blocking my view of him. His eyes are trained on me. His face looks hard and angry. His nostrils flare, and I take a step back, and then another. He’s wearing a black suit, and I wonder if this man has something against color. He starts moving toward me as I keep backing up. I feel like a squirrel caught in the road, and I don’t know which way to go, so I just keep moving backwards.
“Sweetheart, this is King Roman,” I hear my mother say. I can’t pull my eyes away from him.
Suddenly, my heel catches on the rug under me, and I’m falling backwards. I’m tripping over my own feet as I try to stop myself, but the heels are already winning. Before I can make contact with the ground, Roman catches me. He pulls me into his arms, and my breath gets caught in my throat. His warmth wraps around me, and his rich smell of sage fills my lungs. I’m lost for a moment in a cloud of surprise and lust as he stares down at me, saying nothing.
“Hi,” I finally manage to get past my lips. It comes out high-pitched and awkward, and Tabby snorts. It’s loud enough to shake me out of the moment, and I bite my lip to keep from laughing. “Tabby,” I say, my eyes still locked with Roman’s. “I think our plan is working.”
His eyes narrow at me, yet he still doesn’t speak. The only response he gives is a hard look.
“You can’t say that out loud. He can hear you,” Tabby says admonishingly.
Yeah, this guy does not look like he wants anything to do with me. After another moment, he places me on my feet but doesn’t let me go. I didn’t realize when he pulled my body into his that my feet were dangling off the floor. I’m not sure I want to stand now, because being this close, he’s really towering over me.
“Roman,” I hear a man say, and I guess it’s the man who was with him, because I don’t recognize his voice. “I think she’s good.”
As if realizing I’m still wrapped in his arms, he drops them away but doesn’t step back.
“Tabby?”
“No, I’m Alena.” My heart jumps into my throat. Oh my God, he doesn’t know who I am. Maybe it really is my sister he wants to marry and our names got switched or something. That’s it. It has to be it, because I don’t even think we can physically fit together. My face heats as I think about the two of us trying to make that work.
Alena
Chapter 3 *Alena*
“You look like a hooker. One of those American ones.” I turn to look in the mirror and burst out laughing because I know she’s talking about her favorite movie, Pretty Woman. I’m not shocked—my make-up looks just like Vivian Ward’s.
Tabby beams from behind me. We are in her room, getting ready. I don’t own any make-up, so I’m depending on her. When I do wear it, Tabby has to put it on me because I suck at it. In fact, I suck so bad at it that she confiscated the make-up I once had. She told me she did it for my own good.
“As long as I don’t have to dress like a hooker, it’s perfect,” I tell her, making her laugh.
“I say keep it simple on the outfit.” Tabby walks over to her bed, where she’s laid a few things out.
“This.” She picks up a dark green dress. It has short sleeves and molds tight at the bust. It flares at the waist, stopping a few inches above my knees.
“I can’t wear that. I’ll have to wear heels.” That’s the reason that dress has been in my closet—unworn—forever.
“Yep. I’ve seen you in heels. You’re a walking accident waiting to happen. So heels it is.” She picks up a pair of black heels and holds them next to the dress.
I get up from my chair, take them from her, and start to get dressed, knowing we have to be downstairs soon. She starts doing the same and finds something to wear.
When I turn around I see her standing there in a tight red dress that molds to her curves, making her golden skin look like it’s glowing. Red has always been Tabby’s color—her dark hair and red seem to go together. We could never share closets. Tabby has hourglass curves whereas I can barely fill anything out. I’m just built small. My giant husband is going to break me.
“Wait, are you trying to get his attention so he’ll marry you? I thought we were scaring him off.” I feel a little panicked and I don’t know why, but the idea of my sister ending up with him is one I don’t like.
“Whatever you want.” She looks at me like she’s confused. Her outfit is what she would normally wear. Tabby always dresses up and looks nice.
“Girls.” I hear my mom calling us right before the door opens. “Let’s go.” She gives us a glance before she turns and heads out of the room, a glass full of wine in hand, like always.
I slip the shoes on and almost fall over but catch myself before it happens. It makes Tabby giggle, and I snort. Maybe we don’t have to try to be weird.
“Come on.” Tabby locks her arm with mine and we make our way towards the great room. I can’t help but wonder if they are already here.
“I don’t know if I can do this,” I whisper. “I’m so shy I don’t know if I can make a fool of myself.”
“I’ll be right here. We’ve got this.” I look up at her and nod. When we turn the corner, I freeze, and everyone turns to look at us. I drop my eyes to the floor, feeling warmth spread on my face.
I hear Tabby whisper, “Holy fuck,” next to me, so low only I can hear it. I look over at her and follow her line of sight. She’s staring at a man standing with his arms folded over his chest. He has dark hair and deep green eyes. He’s got a smirk on his face that shows off a dimple. And his eyes are on Tabby, which is normal. Most men’s eyes go straight to her.
Roman steps in front of the man, blocking my view of him. His eyes are trained on me. His face looks hard and angry. His nostrils flare, and I take a step back, and then another. He’s wearing a black suit, and I wonder if this man has something against color. He starts moving toward me as I keep backing up. I feel like a squirrel caught in the road, and I don’t know which way to go, so I just keep moving backwards.
“Sweetheart, this is King Roman,” I hear my mother say. I can’t pull my eyes away from him.
Suddenly, my heel catches on the rug under me, and I’m falling backwards. I’m tripping over my own feet as I try to stop myself, but the heels are already winning. Before I can make contact with the ground, Roman catches me. He pulls me into his arms, and my breath gets caught in my throat. His warmth wraps around me, and his rich smell of sage fills my lungs. I’m lost for a moment in a cloud of surprise and lust as he stares down at me, saying nothing.
“Hi,” I finally manage to get past my lips. It comes out high-pitched and awkward, and Tabby snorts. It’s loud enough to shake me out of the moment, and I bite my lip to keep from laughing. “Tabby,” I say, my eyes still locked with Roman’s. “I think our plan is working.”
His eyes narrow at me, yet he still doesn’t speak. The only response he gives is a hard look.
“You can’t say that out loud. He can hear you,” Tabby says admonishingly.
Yeah, this guy does not look like he wants anything to do with me. After another moment, he places me on my feet but doesn’t let me go. I didn’t realize when he pulled my body into his that my feet were dangling off the floor. I’m not sure I want to stand now, because being this close, he’s really towering over me.
“Roman,” I hear a man say, and I guess it’s the man who was with him, because I don’t recognize his voice. “I think she’s good.”
As if realizing I’m still wrapped in his arms, he drops them away but doesn’t step back.
“Tabby?”
“No, I’m Alena.” My heart jumps into my throat. Oh my God, he doesn’t know who I am. Maybe it really is my sister he wants to marry and our names got switched or something. That’s it. It has to be it, because I don’t even think we can physically fit together. My face heats as I think about the two of us trying to make that work.
